


Falling for your fool's gold

by maniasquared



Series: Stucky One-Shots and Drabbles [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist Steve Rogers, Boys Kissing, Break Up, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Dramatic Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, I Made Myself Cry, Kissing, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Making Out, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Pining, Post-Break Up, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Relationship(s), Roommates, Same-Sex Marriage, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniasquared/pseuds/maniasquared
Summary: Bucky comforts Steve after a break-up.





	Falling for your fool's gold

**Author's Note:**

> "And yeah, I let you use me from the first day we met, but I'm not done yet falling for your fool's gold, and I knew then, you turned it on for everyone you met, but I don't regret falling for fool's gold"
> 
> Title from "Fool's Gold" by One Direction.
> 
> This is un-beta'd.

He sat in his favorite armchair in the corner of the sitting room. Legs curled up to his chest, he shivered, but not because it was cold. It was late at night, and the storm carried on, completely unrelenting. The room was dimly lit. He held his tattered sketchbook in his hand. He kept replaying the event in his head, over and over again. It made him sick to his stomach but he couldn’t help it.

_Steve walked up the stairs to Tony’s flat. He had flowers in his hand and a giant smile on his face. He dressed up nice for the occasion. He knew it wasn’t their five year anniversary for another two weeks, but what could he say? He was a gentleman, and he loved surprising his boyfriend, loved showering him in affection. He knocked on the door, fiddling with the tails of his button up. He pressed a hand over the breast pocket in his jacket, just to check if the box was still there. It was, and he sighed in relief. It was irrational, but he always feared that he would lose it. He probably shouldn’t carry the engagement ring around with him, he wasn’t planning to propose until their anniversary dinner, but he did because maybe he would do it spontaneously instead if the moment felt right. He was ready, he was so in love it hurt sometimes. And he knew Tony felt the same. It all felt so right._

Steve barked a laugh of contempt; _until it didn’t feel right_ , he thought while staring at the book full of drawings. He shook his head, how could be so naive? It seemed as if he was perpetually doomed to lose at love.

_The door swung open, and Tony stood there, a blank expression on his face. That should have been Steve’s first warning sign, but he was just so damn happy to see him. He presented the bouquet and kissed him on the cheek. Tony’s lips twitched to imitate a smile and stepped to the side to let him in. He quickly entered the kitchen to put away the flowers as well as remove himself from the gut-wrenching conversation about to happen._

_“Steve,” he started. “We need to talk about something.”_

_“Yeah, what is it, sugar? Is there something wrong?” He shrugged off his coat and hung it up, sitting on the couch afterward._

_“No, nothing’s wrong,” he answered, then exhaled heavily. “Actually, yeah—yeah there is. Well, I think so? I—I don’t really know… I don’t know how to talk about it, I guess.”_

_“It’s okay, take your time, sweetheart.”_

_Tony hated that Steve was so kind, it made things so much harder. There was a long silence, and Tony looked anywhere he could but his partner. He didn’t want to see that look of concern, the soft features and puppy eyes. He didn’t want to see the hurt._

_He managed to stammer out, “The truth is really fucking hard to say, isn’t it?”_

_“I guess I don’t understand what you’re saying.”_

_“I can’t find the right words, not truthful words.”_

_“Okay…. Until you find the right words,” Steve pondered. “Lie to me.”_

_Tony swallowed hard, he felt his hands shake and sweat forming at his brow. “Fine. I’ll do that.” He cleared his throat. “I love you.”_

_Steve blushed, “I love you, too. But I’m sure that’s telling the truth and not lying, babe.”_

_“No, Steve, I don’t think you understand.”_

_He blinked, the grin falling from his face. “Oh….”_

_“I guess what I’m trying to say, and this is the truth now, is that I don’t love you. I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m sorry.”_

_“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” he choked out, tears forming in his eyes. He got up and walked over to pick up his jacket. “I—I just, I don’t get it. What happened?”_

_“Steve, sometimes feelings just go away. I don’t know if there was a cause.” Tony was in the doorway between the kitchen and entry room. He looked uncomfortable._

_“How long have you felt like you don’t love me?”_

_“I don’t—I don’t know exactly. I guess—guess it could be a—a few months?”_

_“‘A few months?’” He was crying at that point, yanking on his coat as he rushed for the exit. “So you’re saying that every time you told me you loved me, you were lying? Every time we talked about having a future together, you were lying? Every time you held me, kissed me, and slept with me, you were putting on an act?”_

_“Steve, please, let me—”_

_“No,” he interrupted. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” He opened the door and was going to walk out when he turned back around. “I was going to propose to you. I wanted to spend my whole life with you—fuck—I still do, it’s not a past thing. Or at least it wasn’t until now.”_

_He pulled out the box and showed Tony the elegant gold band before shoving it back in his pocket. He huffed, sobbing fully._

_“Steve—”_

_“Goodbye, Tony.” With that, he slammed the door behind him, taking off to his car so no one would see him looking a mess like that._

That was two weeks ago. They haven’t spoken since then, despite Tony texting and calling him to apologize. He tried to get ahold of Steve for closure, but he didn’t want it, not right now. It was April 18th, the day after what would have been their five year anniversary. He was alone, sitting on that armchair at two in the morning. If things hadn’t gone that way, he probably would have been laying in his bed with Tony’s arms wrapped around him. But he was alone. His roommate, Bucky, was on a trip with his family for the past three weeks because his sister got married and they wanted to make a whole thing out of it. He was supposed to be back six days ago, but his flight was canceled, and he wasn’t sure when the next one was. So Steve was really, truly alone.

He opened the sketchbook and flipped through it, it was the notebook Tony gave to him, therefore Steve dedicated every page to Tony. There were hundreds of drawings and sketches from Steve’s studies of Tony. He shouldn’t have done that because he began crying shortly after stumbling across the first letter of many he stuck in there. That one in particular declared Tony’s undying love for Steve, saying that one day they’d get the hell out of New York and find someplace quiet to settle in; maybe they’d raise some kids, even if Tony wasn’t the biggest fan of them. He always said that Steve brought out that buried fondness for children and how no one else could do it.

He haphazardly shoved the letter back into the pages then threw it across the room with a choked sob. He ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and broke down further. His head pounded from the consistent bawling and dehydration. He didn’t realize Bucky was standing in the doorway, witnessing the entire scene and dripping wet from the rain.

“Stevie, why aren’t you asleep? It’s late.”

Steve tensed up, slowly looking at Bucky through red-rimmed eyes. He sniffled. “It’s nothing, Buck. I—I didn’t know you were gonna be home today.”

“I didn’t either, I just managed to get the last ticket.” He chuckled lightly before dropping his duffle bag on the ground, kicking off his shoes, and pushing through his suitcases. He knelt in front of his friend. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Buck, he broke up with me.”

“What?” He looked shocked. “I’m so sorry, Stevie. C’mere.”

He opened his arms, and Steve didn’t hesitate to fall right into them, though it was a little awkward with how much larger he was compared to Bucky. He hadn’t left the apartment since the breakup except for work, and he hadn’t had any form of physical touch or affection for about that long, too. He cried into Bucky’s shoulder. Cradled in, Steve balled up the material of his shirt and let it all out. He let go all the pent up emotions that he held in the past two weeks—cursing, crying, and even screaming. Bucky was grateful for the cracks of thunder, otherwise, his neighbors might have thought Steve was being murdered.

“I’m stupid,” he muttered after a period of silence. “I’m so fucking stupid, Buck. Why didn’t I see this coming? I can’t stop going over it in my head, that I must have missed some sort of sign. I must have done something wrong to—to make him leave me like—I don’t know. He’s the only love I’ve known like this. I-I mean, five years, Buck…. Maybe he liked me better when we first started dating in college, but I haven’t changed much since then, have I? I don’t—”

Bucky hushed him, running his fingers through his friend’s hair. He rubbed circles in his back and hesitantly kissed his temple. “Stevie, it’s not your fault. He just—he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. I don’t know if that’ll help you feel better, probably not, but you deserve better if he can’t see how big of a catch you are. Hell, you deserve better than him regardless. You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right.” _Like me_ , he almost said. Almost. “Steve, you two were together for a long time, and that means you’ll take a while to heal and get over him. But that doesn’t mean you won’t ever get over him, just remember that, okay?”

Steve nodded his head feebly. He crushed the heel of his hand into his eyes to wipe away some of the wetness that continued to come out. He was hiccuping, Bucky thought it was adorable in a way. “It’s like five years meant nothing to him. I hate to sound so melodramatic, but I’ve never hurt this bad—ever. I think I should be at least a little better after two fucking weeks, but I feel like it gets worse each day.”

“Don’t dwell on that,” Bucky asserted gently. He pulled Steve closer to him. “I promise you it’s going to get better. It’s still fresh, just give it time.” He paused, and knit his brows together. “Wait, two weeks? Steve, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You were on vacation with your family, I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be a burden. I wish you would have told me,” he said softly. “I would have tried harder to get back here sooner.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I was fun to be around, I just stayed home in my pajamas and stared at the wall.” Steve frowned, the tears stopped coming. He still felt ripped apart, though. He noticed his counterpart open his mouth to say something. “Buck, please—don’t make me feel any worse because I didn’t tell you. I know we’re best friends, but sometimes we don’t need to share everything immediately.”

Bucky felt his heart sink. He swallowed his sadness and put on a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I know you just want to help.” He let out an exasperated breath, leaning back into his touch. “I missed you.”

Bucky took a small, sharp inhalation and he hoped that Steve didn’t notice. His head against Bucky’s chest, he hummed while tracing meaningless patterns across the toned muscles. Bucky willed himself to keep his heart rate down, closing his eyes, he strained, “I missed you, too, Stevie.” _More than you’d ever know_ , he bit his tongue, _now was not the time._

“I’m glad you’re back, I was about ready to watch the new American Idol episodes without you.” He giggled at the astounded expression on his friend’s face. “What? You’ve been gone for ages and I was getting impatient. We’re so behind!”

“Then we’re gonna have to fix that, aren’t we?”

Steve squealed in surprise when Bucky scooped him up and carried him over to the couch bridal-style. He was blushing as a kiss pressed against his forehead.

“You’re lucky I’m wide awake,” he smirked, indicating the ridiculous time to catch up on a reality TV show by gesturing to the clock. He took ahold of the remote and cuddled back into Bucky even though there was plenty of room on the piece of furniture for them to sit without touching. That was always the case, though; the two were nearly attached at the hip. They were always much more hands-on with each other than what one would expect with two buddies. Bucky felt his heart flutter once more, and he scolded himself for being so giddy. Steve wasn’t acting any different than normal... well, he was much more affectionate than the other regular TV viewing sessions. He rationalized that Steve just missed him and he needed some more attention after the breakup.

It wasn’t long into the show before Bucky stopped concentrating on it and focused on the man in his arms instead. If he was to be honest, he didn’t give a damn about American Idol. Sure, he liked the part of the show where people auditioned, but that was about it. He only watched it because Steve liked it; he got to be close, and he could look at Steve without being caught. When Steve started singing along to a song in a terrible, pitchy tone, Bucky laughed. He shook his head, and placed his hand on his friend’s thigh fondly, telling him to be quiet and leave the singing to those who could. Steve pouted, feigning hurt, claiming his words were mean. Bucky grinned, “Oh, shut up, punk.” He tousled the golden hair and kissed his cheek, dangerously close to his lips.

Steve gasped, his face turning a bright shade of pink. He touched where their skin met, he looked startled. Bucky started to panic, he fucked up, he just knew it. Their eyes met, and he couldn’t read Steve, who reached up dubiously and cupped the side of Bucky’s face. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Then Steve launched himself forward, lips crashing together. Bucky was taken aback at first, but quickly adapted and moved in sync. He managed to get Steve turned around to straddle him. Bucky felt sparks with each time their tongues collided, his head spun from the feeling. Fire burned wherever their skin made contact. Time stretched on in the most blissful way.

It couldn’t last forever, though. Steve pulled away, out of breath and his skin all pink and sweaty. He looked down ashamed, and Bucky knew it meant nothing good. “Buck….”

“Yeah, Stevie?” His voice was hoarse.

“I-I’m sorry. I can’t do this to you,” he gulped. “I don’t want to use you as a rebound, I’m sorry. I can’t—I can’t do that to my best friend.”

Bucky’s heart shattered into a million pieces at that moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t care.”

“What?” Steve asked in disbelief, finally bringing his eyes up.

“I don’t care, Stevie. I don’t care if I’m a rebound.” His lips pressed into a thin line. Blue eyes widened, he opened his mouth but Bucky interrupted him, the desperation achingly obvious: “Use me. Please.”


End file.
